My Toxin

Chapter 4

I sat in my dorm room, the PI's report spread out on the desk in front of me. The details about Andre Livingston were damning. Plagiarism, cheating, and even a minor altercation—barely swept under the rug. Andre had already been on academic probation. One more incident would end him.

My mind raced as I pieced together a plan. I told myself it was to protect Marjorie, to keep her safe from Andre. Deep down, I knew it wasn't about protecting her at all—it was about holding on to her. The thought of losing her to someone else was unbearable, and the desperation gnawed at me until it felt like I had no choice.

Accessing Andre's laptop was easier than I had expected. During a group study session, he left it unattended while grabbing coffee. My hands moved quickly, transferring the doctored notes and screenshots I had prepared, evidence that would implicate him in a cheating scandal. It was risky, but the payoff would be worth it.

The anonymous tip-off to the university administration came shortly after. Within days, Andre was called in for questioning. The investigation shook him, his academic performance suffered, and he began to withdraw from his friends. Marjorie noticed, of course. She always noticed.

"Hey, Marjorie. You seem distracted," I said one afternoon, feigning concern.

She sighed heavily. "It's Andre. He's really stressed. He's being accused of cheating, but he swears he didn't do anything."

I nodded, offering her a sympathetic smile while guilt churned in my stomach. "I'm sure he'll be fine," I said, though I knew he wouldn't.

A week later, the university expelled him. The news spread quickly, shocking everyone. Andre's friends couldn't believe it. His professors were disappointed. And Marjorie... she was devastated.

"This is so unfair," she said, her voice trembling as she sat beside me. "Andre worked so hard. He didn't deserve this."

I tried to comfort her, patting her back and offering empty reassurances, but inside, I felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. My plan had worked.

But that sense of victory didn't last long.

A few days later, I returned to my dorm to find Marjorie waiting for me, her face unreadable. My laptop was open on the desk, and I froze when I saw what she was looking at.

"What's this, Alex?" she asked, her voice cold.

I moved closer, my stomach dropping. She'd found the email draft—a half-written message to the PI, detailing the setup against Andre.

"Marjorie, I can explain," I stammered.

She stood, pointing to the screen. "Explain? Explain how you got Andre kicked out of university? How you ruined his life because of your jealousy?" Her voice was loud, shaking with anger—or was it something else?

"I did it for you," I blurted out. "I was trying to protect you from him."

"Protect me?" she repeated, her voice rising. "By framing an innocent person?"

Her words cut deep, but I noticed something strange in her eyes—something I didn't expect. Amusement.

"I love you, Marjorie," I said desperately. "I couldn't stand the thought of losing you. I thought if he was gone, you'd focus on me."

She shook her head slowly, but not in disbelief. There was a faint smile on her lips. "This isn't love, Alex. This is... obsession."

"Marjorie, I'm sorry. I just—"

She silenced me by pressing a finger to my lips, her smile growing. "You're insane, Alex. A total psychopath. Who hires a PI to dig up dirt on someone? All because you're jealous?"

I stared at her, stunned. Her words should have been cutting, damning, but there was no venom in them. Instead, her tone was teasing, almost... impressed.

"Are you going to ruin everyone who tries to get close to me?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with something I couldn't quite place—admiration, maybe?

"Marjorie, I—"

"Relax, Alex," she said, laughing softly. "I'm not angry. Strangely, I'm flattered. Maybe I like the idea of someone willing to go to such lengths for me."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. She wasn't furious or disgusted. She was... entertained.

We stood there, staring at each other, and for the first time, I realised something I'd been too blind to see before. Marjorie wasn't completely innocent in all of this. She might not have asked me to do what I did, but the way she smiled, the way her voice softened—it was clear she wasn't as horrified as she pretended to be.

"Poor Andre," she whispered, her eyes locking with mine. "He was just shooting his shot."

There was amusement in her voice, her lips curving into a smirk.

And in that moment, I realised I wasn't the only one in this relationship with a toxic streak. Marjorie and I were bound together by something deeper, darker, and far more dangerous than love.

Maybe we were made for each other after all.